I Write Sins Not Tragedies
by awesomatics
Summary: Oh what a shame, what a shame the poor groom's bride is a whore. One-shot.


**Title:** I Write Sins Not Tragedies Author: leeharding123 Rating: M, for language and content **Genre:** Songfic (Romance, pure and simple. Actually, maybe a hint of angst. And my own weird sense of humour. Because I can)  
**Summary:** "What a shame, the poor groom's bride is a whore"  
**Disclaimer:** Still not mine. When will they ever be? WHEN WILL THEY?  
**Note:** So I only just realised how repetitive the lyrics of this was after I grabbed them from here. But the idea was planted. Oh well. I wanted to finish this a lot sooner, but everytime I would start typing my little brother would show up- "Whatcha doing? Why are you typing about Harry Potter characters?" Grr. So in the end, it took me an insanely long time to write. But it's done now. Yay. Panic! At the Disco rock, by the way, like their album A Fever You Can't Sweat Out. Booyah. Lyrics in italics. Complete. 

_Oh, well imagine, as I'm pacing the pews in a church corridor,  
and I can't help but to hear, no I can't help but to hear an exchanging of words:  
"What a beautiful wedding! What a beautiful wedding!" says a bridesmaid to a waiter.  
"And yes, but what a shame, what a shame, the poor groom's bride is a whore."_

Hermione looked at her reflection in the mirror. There was no ignoring of it, she did look... beautiful. As beautiful as the settings on the dining table. As beautiful as the frangipanis down the alter, filling the church with a sweet, sickly smell. As beautiful as the multiple boxes of chinaware beautifully wrapped on the table draped in white satin. Beautiful. And easily broken.

Her hands fell down to her waist, brushing over the layers of white material and lace. This was it. Her wedding. Her big day. It had been months in planning, months of discussing which ribbon to hang where and what song to play at exactly fifteen minutes into reception. It was a white wedding, it had something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue... She pushed a piece of hair out of her eyes. This was what she always wanted. It was her childhood dream. This should be the happiest day of her life.

But it wasn't.

Through the months after Ron had proposed, she had felt herself slowly breaking. She knew he didn't really want it. And neither did she.

Yeah, she did once. From maybe fourth year, she found herself imagining the day he'd ask her out, the day they'd share their first kiss, the day they'd marry... Well today was the goddamn day. And it wasn't anything she envisioned.

The door creaked, and she whirled around to see Ginny's beaming face.

"They're ready for you."

Hermione fixed a smile upon her face.

"I'll be there in a minute."

The door closed, and Hermione buried her face into her hands, making a choking sound as she held back the tears. Ron loved somebody else... and so did she.

She almost felt like laughing. It would be almost sinful to marry Ron. Hell, it would be a fucking tragedy.

Draco paced down the hallway of the church, glancing at the door to the ceremony every time he passed it. He shouldn't be here, he knew he shouldn't. But he was. He leant against the door, which had cracked open, and snatches of conversations ran past his ears.

"I've known Ron since he was just a baby...I just love the flower arrangements...What a beautiful wedding... Yes, but what a shame about Hermione's little secret..."

This last line jolted Draco to his senses and he slipped quietly into the room, straining his ears till he found the people having the conversation- two old ladies, draped in beaded shawls with glasses large enough for a dinosaur- and sat down in the pew behind them.

"What little secret?" asked the lady to the left, who Draco named Fruitbasket, due to the pattern on her blouse.

"You know. Her whoring around the place. Turns out, she was caught red-handed with that Malfoy chap."

_I'd chime in with a "Haven't you people ever heard of closing a goddamn door"  
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality._

Draco jumped up, startling the two ladies to turn around.

"She has not been whoring around!" he yelled. "And what she does is her own FUCKING business!"

Draco, after some consideration later, thought maybe he could've rephrased that better.

"Indeed," said the second lady, who Draco, by the same system as before, named Fricking Gigantic Huge People-Eating Flowers, "but, Mr Malfoy, I do recognise you. What are you doing here anyway? Poor Ron has been through enough suffering. Must you rub salt in his wounds? Try to deal with this with a bit of poise and rationality, will you?"

Draco was ready to breathe fire.

"POISE and fucking RATIONALITY? And if you didn't want me here, well, haven't you people ever heard of closing the GODDAMN DOOR?"

More people were turning around in their pews, wondering what the ruckus was about. Draco looked around, and started to move towards the door. he started to think this wasn't such a good idea. Not that he had ever thought it one in the first place.

"Look- forget it."

He exited the room and stumbled across the hall, and began banging his head against the wall. Oh, it was all coming back now. Every single sordid moment. Him and... fuck. Him and Hermione.

So it had started with that whole commotion with Dumbledore dying and Snape taking him away, and all that. Whatever. The main thing was, he had gone back to Hogwarts a different person. Redeemed. And with a motive- to break any ties he had with his father and family at all. He didn't want anything to do with them. This meant his clothes, his hairstyle, his stereotypes... He tossed his material objects on the fire and watched them go up in flames. He cut his hair brutally, until it resembled a punk style, and then set about the hardest bit. Changing how he thought. Because his parents had programmed him to be this way, and he hated them.

So he had to be- ugh- nicer. More tolerant. And not label people under names like 'Mudblood'. People like Hermione. She became his target of a sort, to look at her and not to think of her as Mudblood, a filthy disgusting creature, but as a human being. Equal with everyone. Hell, she was probably better.

So when he walked into class, he would watch her. And everytime the word Mudblood floated into his mind, he pushed it away furiously. This happened again. And again. And again. But a few weeks into it, it started working. She was like the rest of them. Vulnerable, like them.

He started to notice things about her nobody else would. Like if she had changed her brand of lipgloss. Or tied her hair in a different way. Or whether she had a good night's sleep or not. Little things.

Hermione also started to become disturbingly aware Draco was watching her. She increasingly became more paranoid. Was there something wrong with her hair? Did she have a huge 'Kick-Me' sign on her back? What? What?

One day after a particularly annoying Arithmancy lesson, she had reached breaking point, and cornered him in the hallway.

"Malfoy, don't deny this, but why the FUCK have you been staring at me in all our classes? It's freaky!"

Draco remembered the fury, her flashing eyes, the red in her cheeks. He resisted the temptation to reply with a haughty, "Bitch, please."

"Actually, Granger, not that it's any of your business, but you are not the cause of my fixation. Rather, I'm trying to stop myself from thinking Mudblood every time you walk past. I don't want to be bad person anymore. Is there any harm in trying?" he asked calmly.

He remembered her placing her hands on her hips, not sure what to make of this.  
"Well," she started, then stopped again. "I suppose that's okay."

He had flashed a fleeting grin at her.

"Alright then. See you in our next class then."

She had smiled back.

The smile had burned itself into Draco's brain after that. It followed him around like a bad smell. Every time he closed his eyes, that smile flashed in front of him. And it had drove him absolutely insane.

But there was a consolation to it all. Because in class, when he was watching Hermione, he found her looking back.

And when he offered a smile, he got one back too.

Of course, this became infuriating come bedtime, because every new smile brought a new image to haunt him.

It didn't really come to a surprise to him when during their end-of-term party, he found himself drunkenly groping Hermione and attacking her mouth. And it wasn't a surprise that he found her doing exactly the same thing back.

And so maybe they kept doing this, even with the absence of alcohol and a party. Anywhere. A deserted hallway, an empty classroom, in the dormitory... A few people saw, heard, there were rumours. Yet they hardly noticed. And Draco could hardly believe it himself, that it was really happening.

Of course, one thing leads to another, and when it came to them losing their virginity to each other on the last day of school, they weren't exactly shocked either.

It pained Draco to remember all of this. To remember her arms around him the last time when they lay on a rocky carriage, the doors magically locked shut. Her murmuring in his ears she loved him. And, bushy-haired and all, he loved her back.

He beat his fists half-heartedly against the wall. He gritted his teeth together. Oh, and fuck- how would he have known a year later, she was engaged to Ron? Forced by their parents both. He slid down the wall and put his palms onto his face. Oh fuck. And when he heard, from a fleeting a note from fucking POTTER, of all people, that they were getting married today (it read: 'Malfoy you ponce- Ron and Mione are getting married. Haha, you lose, poofter. Love always Harry')- he had almost torn down his fucking house.

So it was why he was here today.

He wished he hadn't remembered. Wished he could wipe out all memory of her and her goddamn smiles. But he couldn't, and there was no fucking way that Weasley was going to get the girl- even though everyone really knew all he wanted to get was into Potter's pants.

Draco got up and raced towards the ceremony doors.

_I'd chime in, "Haven't you people ever heard of closing a goddamn door"  
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of..._

Hermione swallowed. Well, this was it. She pasted a smile on her face and walked out into the ceremony. Cheering. Happy faces. Her dad beaming down at her- god, she didn't think she could handle it. She took step after shaky step. It was all she could do to keep breathing.

All she could see in her eyes was her feet and his face. Draco's face.

She found herself facing Ron after what seemed like an eternity. He smiled at her- genuinely, but it had that sadness she knew was on her face as well. The priest mumbled in a way that seemed almost satanic. Hermione felt like she was going to fall over. Everything kept spinning around her...

"Does anyone object to this marriage? Please speak now or forever hold your peace," the priest droned.

Silence. Hermione looked up.

"I do," she said quietly.

"Sorry, what was that?" the priest asked, surprised.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I'm so sorry Ron... I can't do this," she said, louder.

A muttering rushed over the audience. What was happening? What was the bride saying? Why was there tears forming in her eyes, trickling down her cheeks?

The door banged open. Ginny looked annoyed.

"Hasn't anyone heard of closing a goddamn door?" she asked sharply.

The priest looked affronted at the profanity.

Draco stood in the doorway, breathing hard. "Hermione... I..."

She smiled, tears glittering in her eyes... the first real smile she had smiled in what seemed like forever. Then she ran down the aisle and into his arms.

_Well in fact, well I'll look at it this way, I mean technically our marriage is saved  
__Well this calls for a toast, so pour the champagne  
Oh! Well in fact, well I'll look at it this way, I mean technically our marriage is saved  
Well this calls for a toast, so pour the champagne, pour the champagne_

Ron and Hermione sat in the shed outside the church.

"Ron, I really am sorry," she said, picking at her white dress. "It's just..."

Ron smiled, the sadness gone. "Don't worry about it. Neither of us wanted it. Anyway, aren't marriages meant to be based on love and trust? I love you, Mione, but not in that way. And you could never trust me fully. So, technically, our marriage is saved."

He popped the cork of the champagne bottle and poured them each a glass. "Cheers."

Hermione took it gratefully, and clinked glasses with him. "Thanks, Ron," she said. "But I don't think your mum is going to understand your theory."

_I'd chime in with a "Haven't you people ever heard of closing a goddamn door"  
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality._

Harry walked into the shed, and looked at them both.

"Am I interrupting something here?" he asked in an aloof voice, settling down and pouring himself a glass of champagne, obviously not concerned with an answer.

"Not really. But you should know it's rude to enter somewhere without knocking. You should deal with it with poise and rationality," Hermione said casually, skulling her glass and helping herself to a second.

Harry shrugged. "I have plenty of that. In fact, I'm rational enough to know that you and Ron obviously have nothing going on. And I had enough poise to stop myself from jumping on Ron and kissing him since you left the wedding."

Ron went fire-engine red. "Harry..."

Hermione picked up the champagne bottle. "Um, I think I'm leaving."

_I'd chime in, "Haven't you people ever heard of closing a goddamn door"  
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality.  
Again..._

As she pushed the shed door open, she saw Draco standing in front her.

"Hey," she said nervously.

"Hey," he replied, tucking a hair behind her ear.

Then he looked behind her, and immediately wished he hadn't. "Yuck. Haven't they heard of closing the door?"

Hermione grinned, and shut the door behind her.

Draco placed his hands on her hips, and kissed her until her knees went wobbly, then grabbed the champagne from her hands.

"So, that was quite a drama," he commented lightly, swigging from the bottle as they walked away from the shed, his arm still around her waist. "I think you might need to come around to my place to get over it."

"Is that so?" she asked, laughing, kissing his cheek. "Ok. If you insist."

"You know," he added, "seeing as we're near a house of God, it would be kind of sinful for you to come around to my place after."

Hermione just shook her head and smiled.

"Better a sin than a tragedy."

FIN


End file.
